Simple relationships.

Wren cuts across the crowd, greeting people and returning greetings as she makes her way to the front, to the redhead man, eating while smiling politely at what someone on the same table had said.

She takes a seat right beside him. "Wanna step out?"

Grant drops his fork and leans towards her. "I thought you'd never ask. Come on."

Wren gets up, following closely behind her, Grant.

As soon as they get outside, she sighs heavily, inhaling the cool warm breeze. "I had no idea some rich people stank so much. I mean, I could not breathe at all while greeting this pot bellied man in the middle of the hall."

Grant laughs. "That's not very polite to your guests, you know?"

Wren rolls her eyes. "It's impolite to smell bad too, you know?" She retorts.

Grant smiles. "You never let me have the last word. I'm so happy you brought me out of there, she was totally boring me with her tales of how she caught some Parisian men and the funny things about how they cook pasta and some of their cultures."

"